


a foundation for faith and violence

by planet_plantagenet



Category: Hyper Light Drifter
Genre: Ancient Technology, Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Cults, Gen, Religious Fanaticism, apparently i'm really into writing stuff about the bosses' backstories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 10:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13634754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planet_plantagenet/pseuds/planet_plantagenet
Summary: How the Hierophant went from a history nerd to a power-hungry cult leader.





	a foundation for faith and violence

**Author's Note:**

> transcendence, faith, immortality  
> rifts crafted, dangerous potential  
> a foundation for faith & violence  
> a loss of self, a narrow path travelled

At midnight in the Library, everything was quiet. The place was dimly lit, and empty save for a single student—a small bird at a desk, buried deep in a book. He was black-feathered and yellow-beaked, like many of the birds who lived in the Mountains, and had a green crest of feathers around his head. He wore a simple reddish-brown cloak that covered most of his body. The pages of his book were stiff and yellow, but the text was still clearly legible—squarish symbols arranged from top to bottom.

This bird’s name was Jupiter, a name taken from the ancient history of a faraway planet. The name’s bearer liked it. Jupiter had been king of the gods, went the story. He was able to control lightning. Quite the power source.

The text spoke of a great wellspring. Overwhelming wonders and power.

Quite the power source.

*

In the morning, Jupiter, sleep-deprived, rushed to the monastery, clutching a thick book under his arm. As usual, the Abbot was tending to the rows and rows of eggs, carefully inspecting each one to make sure it was in prime condition. A waste of time, Jupiter thought privately.

“Jupiter—” began the Abbot, but Jupiter was already barreling ahead.

“Sorry for disturbing you, but last night I discovered something—”

“Ah, yes.” The Abbot smiled slightly. “What new wisdom do you have for us today? Still pouring over those ancient texts?”

Jupiter produced the object of the previous night’s studies—a thick volume with no decoration on the cover but a faded pink diamond—and proudly handed it to the Abbot. He opened it carefully, peering at the pages before him.

“Is this one of the works of the Librarians?”

“Yeah—”

“I see.” He rifled through a couple more pages, then looked back at Jupiter. “Of course, studying ancient civilizations is very important—”

“It is!”

“—But you must be careful. The Librarians’ technology was the death of them.”

“We don’t know that,” said Jupiter out of sheer stubbornness. “We know very little about them. And besides—”

“What was your discovery last night?” asked the Abbot, eager to steer the young acolyte away from questioning the knowledge of the elder monks.

Jupiter took the book back and flipped to a page near the beginning. It was full of lavish illustrations, all in brilliantly pink ink. These, it seemed, had somehow not faded. The pictures depicted a wide variety of advanced technology.

“I’ve figured out how the Librarians powered all their tech.”

The Abbot’s eyes grew wide. “Jupiter—”

“They discovered this huge energy source. The wellspring. I know where it is. I know how to refine it and maybe even utilize it. This could be a huge step for our society. We could even—”

“I admire your enthusiasm,” cut in the Abbot, smiling in a way that almost seemed condescending, “but I’m afraid it’s simply too dangerous.”

“What—?”

“Other than what remains of the Librarians’ books, we have no information about this energy source. I doubt we could harness it ourselves. And look at what happened to the Librarians.”

He waited for Jupiter to smile or nod in complaisant understanding. Jupiter did neither.

“Okay,” he said finally in a flat tone. “Never mind, in that case.”

*

Many sleepless nights were spent in the Library. During the day, Jupiter would pass out from exhaustion, only to be woken up by other acolytes. He’d always fallen asleep during meditation and prayer, but during these weeks he did so faster. His mind wandered.

The other acolytes were so docile. They did what they were told.

Jupiter supposed he could one day use this to his advantage.

*

It was three in the morning, and Jupiter’s head was beginning to spin. The symbols before him blurred into each other. But he was so close to figuring out how to extract the energy…

A quiet footstep. A creaking bookshelf.

Suddenly Jupiter was very awake, and very alert. He slammed shut the book and whipped his head around.

“Hello?” he whispered.

A figure emerged from the shadows. Tall, pale pink in color. They looked like a bird. Jupiter couldn’t be sure.

“I hear you’re interested in the technology of the Librarians,” said the bird.

“I—” Jupiter backed away, tripping over his feet and his words. “Yeah, I am—where did you hear—how—”

“I’m a frequent visitor to this Library.” Their voice was smooth. “I’ve seen you studying.”

“Do you know something about the wellspring?” prompted Jupiter. Heart beating fast.

“I do.” The bird seemed to fold themself into every corner of his vision. Worm their way into his consciousness. “I was created from it.”

Jupiter’s head began to spin again. “You—what??”

“I assume you’ve heard of the Librarians’... experiments.”

Yes. The dirks. The mutated, distorted creatures. The four sentient robots who resided below the Barren Hills. Jupiter had heard of it all. He nodded.

“You were an experiment, then? What for?”

“The Librarians were trying to create a creature who was immortal. I was a test. It failed.”

“Failed?”

“I’m not immortal, though I have lived for countless hundreds of years. I escaped the lab at a young age. Fortunately, though, the power of the wellspring was still within my body.”

Jupiter was practically shaking at this point. “What did it do to you?”

“I’m a shapeshifter. I can transform myself into whatever I like.”

_ A shapeshifter. _ So the wellspring really was that powerful.

“I wish I could convince the Abbot that the technology wouldn’t be dangerous,” murmured Jupiter.

“Dangerous? Of course it’s dangerous.”

“But it would be so incredibly powerful. And useful.”

“Yes,” mused the Shapeshifter. “Yes, it would.”

*

Every night, Jupiter met the Shapeshifter in the Library. Every night, they came closer to harnessing the power of the wellspring. They researched. They experimented. They even enlisted the help of a couple of Jupiter’s acolyte friends.

They grew closer, too. Or so it seemed. The Shapeshifter was always one step ahead, a little too quick for Jupiter to catch up to them and pin down their elusive backstory. He didn’t learn much about them, but they learned a lot about him. They learned about his past and about his hopes for the future. How he’d joined the monastery because the idea of organized religion intrigued him. How religious life had fallen short of his expectations. Too peaceful. Boring. Passive.

Jupiter had come into the monastery with a lot of anger. Some of it stemmed directly from the wars with the Titans, which he’d witnessed all too close-up. He’d thought becoming a monk might help him get rid of this pent-up rage. Instead, it fueled it. And then, as his society put itself back together after the war, the monastery becoming a haven of peace, they’d seemed to settle into a weaker state than before.

Jupiter didn’t want to feel weak.

Luckily, he had a friend who knew all about building weapons.

The first thing they built was a staff. It could shoot out energy and send cascades of it trailing across the floor. It wasn’t strong enough yet to be used in combat, but it was getting there.

One of the acolytes asked Jupiter why he’d chosen to create the staff, rather than something more practical. He responded that it was a good demonstration of the power of the wellspring. After seeing this, he argued, the Abbot and the other elder monks would understand what was achievable with this kind of energy. And they’d want to help him harness it.

He didn’t mention that he liked how it made him feel like a god. Like his namesake.

*

As more acolytes were let in on the actions of Jupiter and his friends, the group became something of a secret society. Every night, at midnight, in the most private parts of the Library, they’d gather to resume their research and innovation. They even made themselves their own cloaks—dark purple, with a bright green rim around the hood.

Jupiter created a pair of gloves that would allow the wearer to shoot short beams of energy out of their palms. Soon all the acolytes wanted some. It was like magic.

Then, one night, the Abbot had become a bit suspicious. More and more acolytes were falling asleep during the day, and whispering about secrets he couldn’t hear. And Jupiter was in the center of it all. So he visited the Library with a couple of the other elders.

He didn’t expect to find anything like what he did.

Twenty acolytes, all dressed in the same dark robes, messing around with vats of pink liquid. Constructing technology. Consulting books. Testing out their new energy-wielding powers. Jupiter in the center of it all. And a mysterious pale bird by his side.

The doors crashed open. The acolytes froze. Stunned silence.

“Are you trying to start a  _ cult?? _ ” whispered the Abbot finally.

“It’s just a secret club,” said one bird in a small voice.

The Abbot gestured furiously at the pink vats. “You call  _ this _ a secret club?? Manufacturing dangerous technology? In  _ my _ Library?”

No one spoke. The Abbot strode up to Jupiter and locked eyes with him.

“I told you not to mess with this stuff, Jupiter. This ends now.”

And just to make a point, consumed by his anger, he plucked from its pedestal the book of all the Librarians’ knowledge, and plunged it into one of the vats. It sizzled and melted as all the acolytes stared, wide-eyed and terrified.

“I want this all cleared away by tomorrow,” he said, and stalked out. His associates followed him, glaring at the acolytes and slamming the door behind them.

Silence. Jupiter was shaking.

“What do we do now?” whispered the bird standing next to him.

“Hide all the technology,” he responded after a moment. “Pretend we’ve given up. We don’t need the book anymore, not at the stage we’re at. I have a plan.”

He didn’t have a plan. But the acolytes did what he said. They obediently packed away their stuff and cleared out.

*

Jupiter’s sleeping habits were so messed up that he simply wasn’t tired at night. He couldn’t sleep in his designated quarters. He paced. Then finally, he snuck away to the Library. Just to think. To let himself stew in his emotions.

“We could be a cult,” said a voice from the shadows. The omnipresent Shapeshifter.

“We can’t,” Jupiter replied flatly. “They won’t let us.”

“Do they have weapons as powerful as ours?”

Jupiter shut his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his head to the desk.

“You could be the cult leader,” continued the Shapeshifter. “The Hierophant. With your staff, and all the most powerful weapons. Everyone follows you so naturally.”

It was true. He wouldn’t admit it, but having that kind of authority had just seemed… right. Like maybe this was his destiny. Or something cheesy like that.

“What would I have to do?” asked Jupiter after a moment of silence.

The Shapeshifter was right behind him. He could feel their breath on his neck.

“First, close off the Library.”

*

All eyes were on Jupiter during the day. Watching him. Making sure he didn’t step out of line. He noticed monks periodically searching the Library for any traces of the forbidden technology. Hopefully they hadn’t found it yet.

He had few opportunities to be alone with his acolyte friends, out of earshot of the other monks. In these moments, he detailed the plan.

One night, when there was no moon by which to track their movements, all the cult members snuck into the Library. All the old ones, plus a couple new recruits. They pulled their technology out of its hiding spots and began to set it up. They barricaded the doors and windows. They pulled books off the shelves and reactivated their glowing pink lights.

They really were a cult now. Meeting in a dark, ancient Library under a new moon. Wearing distinctive robes that covered most of their faces. Utilizing a form of technology that was really more like magic.

The other monks tried to get in. They banged on the doors and yelled. Nothing happened. They were ignored. The acolytes put up soundproof barriers.

And they got to work.

“If you’re going to be a cult leader,” hummed the Shapeshifter in Jupiter’s ear, “you need some distinctive clothing.”

“Like what?”

They slunk back into their shadowy corner, and produced a robe and headdress, holding them out to Jupiter. He gaped at them. The robe was pink and red and brown, with flowing fabric and fancy golden epaulettes. The headdress was white and gold, with a complicated pattern of square and rectangular shapes. Perfect for a Hierophant.

The headdress fit snugly, perched on his head just above his green crest of feathers. The robe, however, did not. Jupiter took it and tried it on, fitting its massive sleeves over his arms. The ends of the cloak trailed on the floor.

“It’s much too big.”

“That’s where I come in.” The Shapeshifter moved closer to Jupiter. Too close. “It’s part of the act. You have some power, yes. You can wield your staff effectively. But to be truly awe-inspiring, you need me.”

Something about their smooth voice made Jupiter shiver. “What are you suggesting?”

“Let me show you.”

The Shapeshifter’s form suddenly warped and twisted. They snaked into the space between Jupiter’s robe and his back, and clung there, arms and legs extending outwards to fill up the spaces in the cloak that Jupiter was too small to occupy. He felt himself lift off the ground. The Shapeshifter’s grip tightened around him. He could feel their breathing, their heart beating.

He glanced at the reflective metal surface of one of their machines. A tall bird with a resplendent, multicolored cloak and an intimidating headdress stared back at him. Someone who really looked like a cult leader.

“Do you like it?” murmured the Shapeshifter in his ear.

“I—we—we look great,” replied Jupiter softly. Hesitantly. “But is there any practical purpose—?”

They laughed. Jupiter felt the vibrations reverberate throughout his body. “Yes. I have an extraordinary amount of power and strength, due to the experiments performed on me by the Librarians. By physically merging with you in this way, I transfer some of that power to you.”

They picked up Jupiter’s staff and, thrusting it into the air, incinerated a nearby chair in a blast of pink energy. Jupiter could only stare.

“Come on,” whispered the Shapeshifter. “Let’s go show our friends who’s in charge.”

*

All the acolytes knelt when Jupiter entered the room. There was something about him that simply commanded their respect. His clothing. His sudden height. The way he carried himself like he was their leader.

“I am the Hierophant,” said Jupiter, and his voice echoed. “The Abbot was right. We are a cult. And we are so much more powerful than they are. Look at our technology. Our numbers. Our knowledge. We are on the path to glory.”

And simply to demonstrate his power, with a surge of confidence and the help of the Shapeshifter, he pointed his staff at one of the smaller birds, and they burst into brilliant pink flame.

*

After that, the acolytes decided that ritualistic sacrifice was obviously the way to go. They built altars on which to murder their fellow cult members in cold blood. It wasn’t logical. It didn’t serve a purpose, except to perhaps appease some mysterious higher power. They were following the example of their leader.

And the Cult kept on growing, too. Birds from other parts of the Mountains found their ways to the Library, and were initiated into the new religion in an intense ceremony filled with magic and fire.

There was still the problem of the monastery, though. They were still trapped within the Library.

Fortunately, Jupiter had a plan to fix that.

*

The members of the old religion had to go. They were weak. The Cult deserved their resources.

At midnight, when the moon was full and ominously bright, the Cult members donned their most powerful technological gear and blasted open the door of the Library. One by one, following their leader, they filed out. Dark purple cloaks against the dark of the night. Bright green and bright pink highlights.

The grounds of the monastery were vacant. The Cult swarmed around the central building. Silent and deadly.

Then, on the signal, they threw open the main doors. The clatter was deafening in the quiet night.

A couple birds had been tending to the eggs. They looked up. Terrified and frozen, watching the Cult members slink into their building. They just kept coming. Birds with dark cloaks and hoods that covered their eyes. And in the middle of it all, a tall, majestic leader who bore a striking resemblance to the small history enthusiast, Jupiter.

All at once, they raised their palms and shot beams of energy towards the walls. They caught fire—a pink and orange flame. The monks unfroze and began to panic. Running this way and that. Chaos reigned. The cult members, striding through the smoke, set the rest of the building ablaze, picking off the scattered monks with blasts of energy.

One monk—an old one, with fear in his eyes—scooped up a couple eggs and slipped away, vanishing into the night, made darker by the brightness of the growing fire. No one saw him again, dead or alive.

The Hierophant watched the monastery burn to the ground. He didn’t feel a speck of remorse.

**Author's Note:**

> a couple author’s notes—  
> 1\. Jupiter is an alternate name for the Hierophant tarot card! That’s why I chose that name.  
> 2\. I know real birds don’t have arms, but these are alien birds. They have arms.  
> 3\. In case you’re super confused about why the Shapeshifter was a character, it’s a pretty widely accepted theory in the HLD fandom that the Hierophant is actually made up of two birds. Just look at his death animation…


End file.
